stormed the fat salesman, as he looked for comfort at the two Rovers.

"That comes from trying to be accommodating. I was headed for this place when down there at the Ludding House I met a fellow who wanted to know how to get to Stockbridge. He stuttered so that it took me about five minutes to find out what he wanted."

"Stuttered, did he?" questioned Tom, curiously.

"He sure did! He had an awful stutter with a funny little whistle in between. I wish I hadn't waited to listen to him. I might have had that train, confound it!" went on the fat salesman, pulling down his face.

"Did you say that fellow stuttered and whistled?" broke in Sam eagerly.

"He certainly did."

"Will you tell me what kind of a looking man he was?"

"Sure!" answered the salesman, and then started to give as good a description of the individual as his recollection would permit.

"It must have been Blackie Crowden!" cried the youngest Rover, before the man had finished.

"I don't know what his name was," said the salesman.

"We want to catch that man the worst way," went on Sam. "Have you any idea where we can find him?"

"He asked me the way to Stockbridge, so I suppose he was going there,"

was the reply.

"Where is Stockbridge?"

"It's down on the road past the Ludding House. It's about five miles from here."

"Do you suppose the man was going to walk it?"

"I don't know about that. You must remember I was in a hurry to catch the train. Hang the luck! I wish I hadn't stopped to talk to that man,"

went on the fat salesman.

"And I'm very glad that you did stop to talk to him," returned Sam. He looked at his brother. "Come on, Tom, let us see if we can find Blackie Crowden."

CHAPTER XXII

ON THE TRAIL

The Ludding House was on the side street of the town, about three blocks from the hotel at which our friends were stopping. When the two Rovers arrived there they found the dining-room had just closed and only two men and an elderly woman were in sight.

"We are looking for a man who was around here--I think his name was Blackie Crowden," said Sam. "He is a man who stutters very badly."

"Oh, yes, I remember that fellow," returned one of the men who worked around the hotel, "He was here for lunch."

"Can you tell me where he is now?"

"No, I cannot."

"That man who stuttered so terribly said something about going to Stockbridge," put in the woman. "Perhaps he was going there."

"On foot?"

"I don't think so. Most likely he took the stage. That left about ten minutes ago."

"Was the man alone?" asked Tom.

"I think he was, although I am not sure. He came in during the lunch hour and after that I saw him talking to a salesman who had been staying here--a man who just went off on the train."

"You mean a man who went off to catch the train," grinned Tom. "He didn't get it, and he's as mad as a hornet on that account."

The two Rovers asked several more questions and found out that the stage which left Fernwood twice a day pa.s.sed through Stockbridge on its way to Riverview, six miles farther on.

"They used to use horses," explained the hotel man, "but last year Jerry Lagger got himself an auto, so he makes the run pretty quick these days."

"Come on, Sam, let's get one of our autos and follow that stage," cried Tom, and set off on a run for the other hotel, quickly followed by his brother. They burst in on d.i.c.k just as the latter was posting the letter which he had written to their father.

"Say! that would be great if it was Blackie Crowden and we could capture him," cried d.i.c.k, on hearing what they had to say. "You get the auto ready while I tell the others where we are going."

"It's a pity Stockbridge and Riverview are not on our regular tour," was Sam's comment.

"Oh, it's just as well," answered Tom. "We may have lots of trouble with this fellow Crowden, and it will be just as well if the girls and the ladies are not in it."

One of the touring cars was quickly run to the front of the hotel, and a moment later d.i.c.k, who had rushed upstairs to explain matters to the others, came out and joined his brothers. Tom was at the wheel, and he lost no time in speeding up the car, and on they went along the dusty road in the direction of Stockbridge.

"I do hope they catch that fellow and get back Mr. Sanderson's money,"

was Grace's comment, as she watched the departure of the touring car out of one of the upper windows of the hotel.

"What's it all about?" asked Ada Waltham, who had not been present when d.i.c.k had burst in on the others. She was quickly told and then asked: "Why didn't they take my brother along with them?"

"I don't know, I am sure, Ada," answered Grace. "Perhaps he wasn't around."

"He was down in the writing-room with d.i.c.k."

"Well, I am sure I don't know why he isn't with them," was the reply.

"I don't think they are treating Chester just right," retorted the rich girl, rather abruptly, and then left the room with her nose tilted high in the air.

"What a way to act!" murmured Nellie.

"I am afraid that sooner or later we will have some sort of rupture with the Walthams," was Dora's comment. She gave a little sigh. "Too bad! I should hate to have anything happen to spoil this tour."

"Well, I don't think the boys treat Chester Waltham just right,"

returned Grace, somewhat coldly. "They treat him as if he were a stranger--an outsider," and then she, too, left the room, leaving her sister and Dora to gaze at each other questioningly.

Along the dusty road sped the touring car, Tom running as rapidly as safety would permit. Soon Fernwood was left far behind and they began to ascend a slight hill.